


A View From the Outside

by Crowkidart



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: LOTS OF SPOILERS, M/M, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowkidart/pseuds/Crowkidart
Summary: After the events of DoTO, a green-eyed young man decides to look for an old acquaintance.





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> Just wanted to warn you that English is not my native language, so I apologise if my writing is a bit weird. I hope it's readable at least!  
> Thanks a bunch for your interest!

In a bar, surrounded by laughter, songs, and beer was a young man who seemed strangely oblivious to the whole atmosphere. Anyone who saw him there, quietly sitting at a table in the corner, with eyes that swiftly traveled from one side of the room to the other, might think he was sick or a little too intoxicated. He looked like a petty animal, his face a mixture of caution and curiosity.

At a table in the center of the room was a group of six friends talking to a tall, fat man, probably very strong, who didn’t seem to know them. The odd boy was watching him without much interest: he’d seen him enter the back door almost half an hour ago, dressed like a wretch, and from then on the fat man went from table to table to tell his story and ask for something. No one had enough patience to listen to him, and the only reason why he hadn’t been kicked out of the bar yet was because he was twice the size of anyone else in there.

This type of occurrence was not uncommon in the less privileged districts of Karnaca. Things had been much worse at the time when the real Luca Abele was still the duke, it’s true, but it would still take a long time to get the majority of the people out of misery, and meanwhile beggars would keep begging.

"Tell me, then, why won’t you get a job?" asked a thin young brunette girl among the six friends sitting at the table where the beggar stood. From his corner table the boy could hear pieces of their dialogue in the midst of the bar's usual din.

"Oh, my young lady, and who’d be interested in hiring a filthy old man like me?" he replied. He wasn’t even that old. "I’ve got no education, I'm not skilled at anything, I'd have to learn things beforehand, you know ...?"

"I'll teach you." She then took something out of her pocket and threw it on the table. A business card, probably. "I need volunteers in the North Star. I can’t afford to pay for new recruits, but I provide them private rooms and food on the ship. If you work well, perform well, you’ll be promoted and will have your salary.”

"But what about my family, young lady, what will be of them if I take your offer? My poor wife and two children down there in Gristol, I must meet them soon, or …”

"Whatever." She took the card back. “You do you.”

The man slowly turned away holding his old hat to his chest and walked around the tables as timidly as his size allowed him to, while he looked for someone he had not yet visited. He then found the odd boy in the corner.

“Good evening, young man ... sorry to interrupt your business, but if you have a minute …”

"Sure." The young man looked up and gave a polite half-smile..

“My name is Jaeger, I’m 52 and have two children of my own to raise …”

The younger man seemed to listen closely to the whole story of someone who went after a promise of employment in Karnaca but was deceived, and now can no longer return to his homeland, his wife and two kids waiting for him there, and who now needs money to buy a boat ticket. It sounded convincing, the boy had to admit. He spoke with almost real regret and embarrassment. Almost.

"I'd like to help you, sir... Jaeger ..." The boy finally relaxed his posture and leaned his back against the chair, arms folded across his chest. "... But I'm not sure whether I support your intentions when returning to your family."

“Beg your pardon?”

"Ten years ago you were arrested for killing your wife's lover. Prisons got crowded during the first part of the regime of our dear Duke and now they have decided to release the prisoners on good behavior. You’re one of them, aren’t you, Anis? Is it Anis? Or Anias? I don’t remember." The young man took one of the three glasses of beer that rested on his table, the only one that still had any liquid, and took his last sip. The beggar stood silent. "Anyway, you were released a few days ago and now you plan to go back to Gristol and see your wife, that’s true, but to kill her."

The beggar stood silent for a few more seconds which belied that it was true. Even so, he again tried to look innocent and explain himself.

“Anias” he said. “No, you must be mistaken, sir. I am Jaeger, and yes I was arrested, but for stealing bread …”

“Yes of course.” The younger man dropped the now empty glass on the table, looked away and held up his hand. “Hey, Billie! Would you bring me one more, please!”

"Boy," the beggar growled, walked closer to the point where his belly almost touched the boy's face, and kept his voice down. “Who are you? A police officer? A wizard ...?”

“Neither. I just...” now his smile seemed legitimate. “...I know stuff.”

"I am Jaeger," the beggar repeated, nervously looking around. "And if you tell anyone I'm not, I'll ..."

“You’ll do what? Get arrested once more?”

In a wave of irrational rage, unable to think if there was any other way out of being arrested, Anias accepted his fate and punched the young man's face so hard that it knocked him from his chair. Immediately the whole bar turned their attention to the two of them.

"If I'm going to be arrested, then you're going to be dead." He pushed the recently vacated chair out of the way as the young man lay reeling on the floor. With a tug he lifted the younger man up by the collar and wound back for another punch, when he felt something sting his neck.

"Sweet dreams," a female voice spoke low in his ear, and that was the last thing he heard before he passed out on the spot, crashing to the floor.

Everyone in the bar had already circled the scene. The woman who had sedated him was black, slender, wearing red robes and an eye patch over her right eye. Realizing that the customers' glances were now upon her, and that the boy was very much alive even though he was beat, she addressed them all:

“Thanks for your concern, but the show is over. They'll be fine.”

“What did you do to him?” Someone asked. In fact no one had seen where the hell a sedative dart had come from, or where it was now. It looked as if that the woman had knocked the man down with just a poke.

"He’s sedated," she said while lifting up the empty flask. "And will be for a few hours. He'll feel sick to his stomach when he wakes up, but that’s all there is." She then helped the fallen boy get back to his feet, but his legs were still quite wobbly so he had to put his arm around her shoulders in order to stand.

Under everyone’s silent gaze, the woman put a handful of coins on the table - for the beers - and escorted the boy out without saying a word. Exceptionally for the Month of Rain, that night it was not raining, but the wind felt humid and the ground still had puddles from the last shower. Puddles which the drunk boy kept stumbling through and drenching his shoes.

"Damn it, boy," the woman said, clearly struggling to keep him on his feet as they walked. From a distance he looked fairly small for some reason, but in fact he was tall and heavy. "I forbid you to drink unless you can keep your mouth shut, you hear me?"

"He wath lyin’," the boy tried to answer, and spit out a gout of dark blood. "I dew he wath lyin’ ....

"Fuck that, you don’t have magical powers anymore! You’ll end up _beaten to death_ one of these days, or worse: people will ask you questions.”

“Bud I dow… ebbryting…”

"You don’t know shit, boy. Your _I-don’t-know-how-many-years_ as the Outsider means nothing in the real world. And I want my money back. Thanks to you, people were staring at us so I had to pay for the beers. Now come on, stand still by yourself ‘cause I need to grab the keys.”

Billie Lurk was a smart woman, used to hiding and covering up traces of her existence, but with such a clumsy and stubborn companion it was getting difficult. They’d have to move soon, for this had already been the third incident involving the boy and his bad habit of thinking he was still untouchable. But for tonight they’d sleep there, in the old apartment rented from a blind old lady who lived just above.

Yeah, tomorrow we’ll talk and decide what to do, Billie thought, while she locked the door behind them.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the long wait. The chapters are already written, I'm having a real hard time translating them ;/ I'm pretty sure a lot of sentences are gonna sound weird or flat out wrong, so please feel free to point them out so I can edit them t-t  
> Anyway I want to thank you for your amazing response to the last chapter and all the comments! I'm so glad you enjoy this fic, and I hope I won't dissapoint you!!
> 
>  
> 
> p.s.: yes the new character Nelly is a reference to the Wuthering Heights character of the same name

At first he thought it was temporary; a result, perhaps, of some silly mistake he made without realizing it. His cautious nature kept him from worrying so soon, and for two or three weeks he acted as naturally as he could, taking a few days off under the (made up) excuse of being sick. He started worrying when, at the end of this period, there was still no sign of improvement.

He tried, nevertheless, to return to his previous _insanely_ tough routine, but two hours of field work were enough for him to notice that would be impossible. Of course he ended up doing whatever he gotta do to finish the job, but it took twice as long and three times the amount of effort it would have taken before, which was not overlooked by the government or the Royal Guard - or even by the servants. First came the rumors that he had not yet fully recovered from the disease; then they thought such disease had been so severe it left him crippled. But in the end the most popular theory was that of Corvo just getting old.

In other circumstances such rumors would have made him furious, for it hurt his pride to hear that age reached him. He didn’t really want to be reminded that he was already in his mid-fifties. Still, it was better for people to believe he was getting old than to suspect the truth, so Corvo pretended not to know anything and let the rumor spread free.

 

Now he was on his sixth field mission since the mark on his hand lost it’s glare and also it’s powers. He was searching in a damp alley for something that could bear his weight. He found a rotten wooden box, placed it close to the wall of a building, and in an instant jumped from it to a high window, and from the window to a ventilation pipe, and from the pipe to the roof ... and as he tried to ignore his sore muscles, he told himself he wasn’t getting old at all. Even without powers, he still did his job better than anyone ever could. In agile and silent steps he jumped from there to another building’s roof toward an alley that got recently known as heretic territory: his goal was to find out precisely what kind of activity was happening there. It’s true he felt like a bit of a hypocrite chasing heretics, after all he was probably the one most connected to Void among them all, but as the Royal Spymaster it was his duty to work alongside the Overseers. _Gotta got what you gotta do_.

As he ran, the waning moon that rose behind the clouds caught his eye.

"... litte brat," he muttered, and began to run even faster.

He was referring, of course, not to the moon, but to the Outsider, who had to be the one to blame for this whole situation. It would be quite typical of him, like the asshole that he is, to take away Corvo’s powers without warning; the strange part wasn’t the missing powers, but the silence that followed. No, the Outsider would never miss the opportunity to give a long enigmatic speech about anything, Corvo was sure.

Upon seeing a certain sign, Corvo stopped. He had reached his destination and could already hear voices. With the utmost caution he walked in complete silence to one edge of the roof and crouched so that he could see three figures down there, but they could hardly see him. There were three women; two in their twenties, and one who looked to be about forty, sitting around a small bonfire. Unfortunately they spoke in a really low voice and the building in which Corvo was standing was tall, so he could not hear them too well. He needed to get closer, somehow ...

After a brief analysis of his surroundings he concluded that the safest route would be to descend through a ventilation pipe on the side of the building. The women were sitting at the front, so all he had to do was to peer around the corner of the building and hopefully he’d hear them better. Corvo executed his plan without making the slightest noise - that is, until he descended about three stories on the pipe. Then a bolt came loose, the metal creaked under his feet, and Corvo's heart stopped for a second. _Calm down, calm down. It was a low creak and they were distracted, they must not have heard_ , he thought as he tilted his head to peer around the corner and ...

 

They were gone.

 

Not even a second after Corvo noticed their disappearance he felt a powerful kick hit his back and was tossed from the pipe straight to the ground, two stories below. The good thing about that height was that it gave him enough time to turn around and fall into a kind of somersault that cushioned the impact, but as soon as he tried to get up from the ground a woman appeared in front of him and stepped with full force in his left hand. With a growl of pain he immediately drew the sword with his right hand and swinged it out with intent to injure the witch's legs, but she had already teleported herself a few feet ahead.

It was then that Corvo stood up and held the sword in a fighting position, but ... the witch did not move. He recognized she was the oldest among the three who were chatting before - her skin was dark, the hair was silvery, and the body covered in tattoos of mystical symbols. To his surprise, Corvo realized she was not a witch, but a mere cultist. _Since when did cultists have that kind of power? And why on Earth does she seem to be smiling?_

The woman made no attempt to attack him. In fact she was already halfway turned in the other direction, and only her playful eyes stared at something in Corvo that he at first did not understand what it was. But then he looked at his left hand, which had been stepped on. The piece of cloth he wore to cover the Outsider’s mark had been slightly moved and the mark was now partially visible, even though it was dull.

Oh no.

The woman then vanished, leaving Corvo alone and confused in the dark alley.

 

***

 

The Dunwall Tower was in many ways like an immense anthill: people could be seen pacing back and forth between it’s intricate corridors at any moment of the day or night, busy in their affairs that could range from science to trade or cleaning. As long as the anthill was active and in order, the whole ecosystem around, the city, would tend to be in order as well.

Corvo Attano had a very special role in maintaining such ecosystem working well both inside and outside the Tower - he was a true symbol of security - and so he tried not to look worried when he failed a mission. His mere dejected countenance was capable of arousing insecurity in anyone who saw him, and soon rumors would spread like plagues, contaminating every government official. That's why when Corvo realized that it would be impossible not to look devastated tonight, he decided to sneak into his room out the window instead.

He still could not understand what had happened, and somehow he felt trapped in a dream too strange to be true. In the first place it was clear that he had been ambushed, and the only purpose of his aggressors was to reveal the mark on his hand. So they _already knew_ about it. Or was it an accident that somehow saved Corvo? Perhaps the cultist had plans to kill him, but gave up on seeing that he himself is tied to the Void. But how did they know he'd be down there in that alley, anyway? They seemed to be waiting for him; it is quite possible that they had deliberately sabotaged that pipe so that it would grind under someone's weight and announce his arrival.

Absolutely lost in his thoughts, Corvo paced in circles within his surprisingly small room for a member of royalty. He had the right, of course, to sleep in a larger room, but his timid, reserved nature called for a lair where he felt safe. He was so focused on his issues that he did not even hear anyone knocking tentatively on the door.

If those cultists were expecting him, then chances are they were working with someone from inside the Tower, someone who might have warned them of his arrival or even of his mark. But how, if the Overseers did such a meticulous job of searching any new employee? Was one of them an undercover cultist? Did they plan on investigating Emily, too? Corvo needed to talk to her as soon as she woke up the next day.

And what was the purpose of it all, anyway?

The knocking on the door grew louder and finally got Corvo’s attention. Before opening the door, however, he checked the clock: 3 am, too late for anyone to want to consult him on any subject whatsoever. He frowned. It was either an emergency, or it was ...

Corvo remained silent, staring at the door. He was ready for the sudden entrance of his new cultist foe, but instead he heard a timid, familiar voice:

"Spymaster, sir? I ... I saw you sneaking in from the window, and ... I brought you tea ... "

It was Nelly, one of the maids who served him and set up his room - in fact the only maid he'd learned to trust. He opened the door with a look of relief on his face, and found the familiar brown-haired girl holding a tray with tea and biscuits.

"Don’t tell anyone, Nelly," Corvo said as the maid put the tea tray on his desk. "I'm too exhausted to talk about results with anyone now."

"I figured that much, sir" Nelly smiled. She had always had a more informal, almost cheeky attitude than all the other servants, and because of it she had been almost dismissed several times; but Corvo liked her, and insisted they let her stay. It was rare to find someone so open-hearted and sincere like her in the Tower, and since the first time Nelly saw Corvo sneak into his room, she kept her promise not to tell anyone. "But look at your coat, you're filthy! And your pants! Were you rolling on the ground? Give them to me, I'll scrub them before dawn, no one else will get to see what happened. "

"Okay, right." Corvo slowly walked to the bathroom - he had just realized how sore and exausted he actually was - and meanwhile Nelly waited for him sitting on the chair at his desk. Soon Corvo reappeared in a long dark blue robe and tossed the soiled clothes into Nelly's lap, who readily held them.

"Thank you, Nelly," he said, almost in a sigh, and the young maid answered with a smile as she turned towards the closed door that led into the hallway. It would be of no good use to spend much more energy trying to solve the mystery of the cultists now, Corvo thought, because his head was already wrapped in a fog of exhaustion that prevented him from thinking clearly. He was already sitting on the bed, adjusting the pillow to lie down when he realized that Nelly had stopped in front of the closed door instead of leaving.

"... Nelly?" He asked, but seconds went by and the girl remained silent, staring at the door. "...are you all right?"

"... today you met Camellia," she answered in a low voice, still staring at the door.

"what? no, I ... "and then it struck him.

No, it wasn’t possible that the undercover cultist was Nelly.

"Who is Camellia?" Corvo asked, tense.

"She's my cousin." And then Nelly finally turned back to him, though she avoided eye contact. She smiled shyly. "She was the one who kicked you to the ground ... and who warned me of your arrival minutes ago."

No, not Nelly.

"But how…? You…? How come I never ...? " Corvo shook his head and got up to his feet. Now was not the time to deny reality or reflect on how stupid he was to trust the enemy. It was time to act. "What you want?"

It took Nelly a few seconds to reply. She was still holding Corvo's dirty clothes, which gave the impression that she actually intended to wash them, and her gaze traveled through various corners of the room, as if searching for the difficult answer. Corvo was ready to grab the sword that now rested on his bedside table, but the maid didn’t look like a threat at all: she seemed to be the same trusty Nelly she had always been, only now she was worried.

"I want your help," she said finally, and added as she realized that Corvo was approaching the sword: "Please, please, listen to me."

Corvo stopped. _What a turn of events. Just what is going on?,_ He thought silently, and needed not have said a word, for his confused expression said it all.

"My real name is Dahlia," Nelly's voice sounded shaky, and her eyes finally met Corvo's. "And I know why you can no longer use the powers of Void, Lord Spymaster, Sir. I know, and I asked my cousin to check it out, and now I know it is, and ... "

"Tell me at once!" Corvo's voice was low but threatening and made Dahlia take a step back against the door. "Tell me!"

"The Outsider ..." Dahlia's voice became no more than a whisper, and Corvo had to approach her in order to hear what she said. "... disappeared."

If Nelly, or Dahlia, or whoever that person was said something afterwards, Corvo did not hear. His aged human body, still not used to being entirely human with no powers, could not stand the amount of pressure and challenges Corvo had put himself in the last few weeks, and yielded to the darkness. Corvo fainted, his head making a 'thump!' as it hit the edge of the bed.


End file.
